Balance (Title due to change)
by Lynniethe7th
Summary: The Overworld is in danger. After examination of who may be responsible, no one can pinpoint it as the fault of Herobrine or the mobs. So what is really going on? Meet our three varied protagonists as they live through this chaotic time and suffer from its irrationality. Rated Teen for violence, language, and the like.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The Balance

The oracle had one responsibility for his kingdom, and not many could bear the duty that he endured. He along with a few selective others were scrambling to trace and connect the messages that the gods had sent them, the visions of utter destruction. Secluded in a cool, dark square sandstone room, the robed man settled himself in front of a teal orb, an Ender pearl, which floated delicately above a cobblestone pedestal. The orb emitted light as the man began to witness flashes of green and blue sparking within the pearl. The oracle leaned toward the orb, focusing, examining it with the upmost precision.

Inside the teal sphere, various images of the bright and cheery scenery of the Overworld swam across; time was fast forwarding inside the pearl. After a brief moment of peace, the oracle saw the room engrossed with the bright oranges and reds of flames burning cities, towns, and villages, demolishing the beauty of the Overworld. Permanent clouds of ash and debris loomed in the hot, fiery atmosphere as screaming was reigning throughout the room, the oracle finding it unbearable. Collapsing to the stone floor covering his ears, the man watched as the people fled their houses which succumbed to the blazes that erupted from nowhere. Upon opening their doors, the people choked on the grey ash, toxic gases, and infinite debris raining down from the opaque clouds, swiftly silencing their exasperated cries for mercy.

The medium rose to his feet with hesitation, and the hot flames burned to engulf the center of the pearl, the fire dancing inside for several minutes. The oracle's gaze didn't leave the hellish realm inside the pearl. The fire had to die down, and he could not begin to surmise the amount of time that passed for it to be smothered. However, once the flames disappeared, not much remained. The world was reduced to a raged sheet of seemingly indestructible bedrock, with gaping holes intertwined within to lead to the void. No sun shined on this lifeless layer, nor did anything move. The Overworld was dead.

The oracle stood there silently, horrified, perspiration running down his scrunched, wrinkled face. The images were seen, but there was no evidence of whoever sent the fortune. The oracle's mind buzzed with the obvious choice of the infamous Herobrine, one that would want to unleash this destruction. But Herobrine was no coward. He would deal with an oracle directly, not send the imageries through an Ender pearl. The oracle was contacted before by the ruler of the Nether, and Herobrine may make a witty deal, but he would never lie or hide this way.

A door positioned behind the oracle flung open to bang against the beige walls with moderate force. Immediately, a gust of sand and dry, heated desert air welcomed itself into the impeccably cool chamber. Quickly, the oracle heard the fluid movement of the door slamming shut, ceasing the draft of intense heat.

The man that entered the room carried a freshly lit torch, panting like a dog, his blue and white striped shirt drenched as if he was caught in a downpour. He paused several times while speaking, still attempting to catch his breath. "Sir, the others… can't find the sender."

"Well, I didn't see that before," the oracle replied, ignoring the guest as he stared into the pearl with disdain.

The other man glanced at the pearl too, moving towards the orb, seeing movement. Black, tall figures moved around casually on the bedrock. Endermen. Neither the messenger nor the oracle could take that. The Endermen have a world of their own.

"It's the mobs!" The man blurted out, pointing at the orb with a quivering finger. "They can do something like this!" The man bloomed with euphoria upon stating his clever thoughts.

The oracle shook his head. "The sender can be an average person even, but they need incredible power…"

The man with the torch continued his rant. "Steve! He has such power!"

"No, some of the others suspected him at first. They contained him, and he can't be sending these. The obvious choices are out. I can't even trace Herobrine's hand in this, or the mobs'. Every time I watch this act, it just continues to chill me."

"The other oracles can't trace whoever sent it either. But the images are blatant. I honestly think mobs sent this." The messenger ran his hand through his matted, sleek sandy hair.

"I honestly don't give a damn who sent it. The Overworld is going to end. And I'm not ready to know that those things will contaminate another world as their own. They do it now." The oracle scoffed at the Endermen walking upon his home world which was reduced to absolutely nothing. In an act to remove the visions, he punched the Ender pearl of the pedestal, disgusted, only to then teleport a short distance across the room, purple particles following him in his wake. He sighed before carrying on, stating his intentions with authority. "Contact the kingdom if they aren't informed already. If the king doesn't answer, tell him that twenty mediums detected the destruction multiple times. Have someone show him it."

"Yes sir." The servant uttered before he scrambled out the door into the desert, leaving the oracle drowning with acknowledging the Overworld's destructive fate.

**A.N. My other story has been discontinued because I am no longer interested in the plotline. Kinda explains why the last update took so long. **

**Please review. I post stories here for your criticism. **


	2. Chapter 1- The Unlikely Trio

Max heaved out a sigh as he knocked on the wooden door to his extravagant stone brick home, his satchel and arms full of freshly acquired emeralds. His job allowed him to receive much cash flowing into his wallet; Max was a young but successful bounty hunter. Max enjoyed the thrill of finding notorious criminals, and especially the challenge of bringing them back alive. He had an excellent relationship with a sheriff by the name of Ricardo in the warmer town of Blakeslee to the south, and there Max returned the delinquents in to exchange for the payment along with a few perks provided by his friend.

Max was bundled up from head to toe; he could feel his fingers already going numb despite having thick gloves on. Winter would last about two more months, and its full force bore down on everything this time of year. The water was frozen, the air was frigid, and the once lush and warm forest was barren of vegetation besides the occasional conifer amongst the deciduous trees.

Max's house was on the road to becoming the equivalent to a mansion. Max had ample emeralds to burn, and his once little cobblestone house had become a complex, fortified brick home that could bear whatever anyone threw at it. Max's house was expanded on by his two servants, and through the colossal windows of the home's entryway, he noticed they both were sitting at the long, grand dining table which stretched several meters in the front room. The table was stained dark cherry and covered with a sleek varnish on top which refracted the light of the exquisite glass chandler above it. On the distant opposite wall, wood burned in a fireplace made from red brick, which combated the cold air that managed to seep through the windows. Currently, both of his men were playing some game with a deck of cards at the table. Upon Max's tapping on the glass windows, their heads turned to the exit, and they realized it was Max standing outside as they gazed out the panes. The two servants ceased their game upon seeing Max's short arms overflowing with crisply cut gems.

An older, tanned gentleman with a long red plaid shirt and fading blue jeans stood up from the table, his grey eyes dazzled by the wealth in Max's hands. He rushed over to the entryway, opening it for his master. The man held the door open as he mentioned, "Maximilian, you've been gone a good week an' a half! What guy did you catch this time 'round?"

Max enlightened his servant further, his younger voice a stark contrast from the older man's. "Alec Zelen. Quinn, you ought to know that guy."

Quinn's face broke into astonishment. "Alec? He's been wanted for six years! Good thing you got that guy off the streets." Quinn gave Max a few hearty pats on the back as Quinn closed the solid oak door which was letting in drafts of frosty outside air.

Max moved over his plush heather grey carpeting, strolling towards the table to set down his collection on top of the game the two servants were playing. Max removed all the valuables from his satchel too, the gems falling to collide onto the table with a sharp thud. Finding the cozy interior much warmer than the frigid outside, Max removed his heavy wool coat to place it on a rack nearby the entry door. Underneath, Max wore a long black sweater and long jeans which were wet at the bottoms from his trudging through the snowy landscape. Scrabbling back to the gems at the table, Max's blue eyes flared as he grasped his earnings greedily in front of his lesser, poorer servants.

A covered, shrouded man across from Max spoke, his rough voice naturally menacing. "I found fourteen diamonds over this week in the caves. I can't believe the amount."

Max lifted his head to look into the darkness covering the man's face utterly. This was Diatrix, Max's miner. Diatrix was a former assassin, or so he claimed, but Max never interrogated Diatrix about his past occupation or the reason for his appearance. Not one part of Diatrix's body was exposed, not even his hands, which were covered in opaque gloves. Diatrix wore a tight black outfit streaked with bold green accents which easily revealed his muscular physique beneath. Max has never seen Diatrix's face, and he presumed Quinn hadn't either, but the two left that alone. An assassin is an assassin, and Diatrix's build suggested he had considerable power. Max wondered often if Diatrix had a bounty on his head, but Max never came across his name on the wanted lists. After a year of researching, Max never found out who Diatrix had worked for previously. Until Max could gain additional insight on him, he let Diatrix be.

Quinn stood next to Max, putting a hand on Max's shoulder. "He did, let me tell ya, without any enchantments or that nonsense. And they were above the lava level, right?"

Diatrix nodded, his black hood creasing. "This was way above the lava level! They were mixed with the gold, and I've never seen that before."

Max was distracted from his riches, for he was counting every one of his prized emeralds. After two minutes and then a recount, Max stated, "I got sixty, just like promised. Those diamonds, Diatrix, are in the chamber down the hallway to the right?"

"Yes," Diatrix muttered as he watched the complexion of ecstasy flowing across Max's face from this other source of newly acquired wealth.

Quinn smiled at Diatrix unenthusiastically as Max hurriedly gathered his gems from the table, leaving the cards underneath in disarray. Max exited the room to first pick up the said diamonds, and afterword to place the precious jewels hidden away from Diatrix and Quinn in an undisclosed location.

Quinn took a seat across from Diatrix on a lavish, cushioned dining chair at the table as he glowered at the deck of cards strewn about the table. He considered organizing them, but he didn't touch a card. "Max has to have thousands of emeralds," Quinn declared as he gazed around the room, recalling something as he focused on the high glass ceiling, the blue sky above growing darker. "Reminds me of the talk of the town…"

Diatrix shifted in his chair uneasily. "They were talking about Max? All the way up here?"

Quinn shook his head. "What I mean is his emeralds aren't doing him any good, and he won't need them, especially soon."

Diatrix cocked his head at the old farmer. "What do you plan to do?"

Quinn leaned towards Diatrix as if he expected Max to magically teleport in the room like a snooping Enderman. "When I went to town earlier, word was buzzing about somethin' bad. Some sort of widespread destruction."

Diatrix moved his thumbs up, knowing what this dealt with. "A religious omen?"

Quinn gave a curt nod. "You know Max. He won't believe a damn word of it. I heard that this event was found out by oracles halfway across the world. How long has it taken to reach here? It could've taken days, weeks, maybe months. Worse yet, the oracles ruled out the obvious choices of who sent the fortune. The mobs, Hero, and Steve are out."

Diatrix's head turned to perceive the setting sun outside the enormous windows, the remaining yellow light flowing into the room, the bare trees' shadows faintly slanting on the grey carpet and ornate wooden walls of the dining room. He would need to leave for the mines soon. In an earnest tone, he announced, "What's so secretive about that? These inaccurate fortunes happened before…"

Quinn retorted back sharply. "Diatrix, none of the big guys are involved. Usually stuff sent by them is almost always false. This new guy may be right."

"This guy will be no different. Hype over these misleading visions is unnecessary." Diatrix was becoming annoyed, yet he let his irritation be absent from his voice.

An abrupt grimace covered Quinn's wrinkling face. "I surely hope so. I know that this can become out of hand…"

Cutting Quinn off, Diatrix responded frenziedly, "It _is_ out of hand if people are this concerned already. Who knows what will happen next? When something is about complete destruction, people go mad, like all the other times the world was predicted to end!" Diatrix rose from the table, soothing himself as he unfastened a chest behind him in a secluded corner, which was crammed with his mining supplies. Diatrix usually mined at night, for there were fewer mobs in the caves. Diatrix's arsenal did not include the cliché sword as assassins were most likely to be utilizing. Diatrix had large stacks of small iron throwing axes specially made for him by a blacksmith up north. Quinn knew Diatrix's method worked for him well, and he didn't question why Diatrix should perhaps use a more durable weapon such as a diamond sword.

Quinn couldn't remain in the room with the dreary subject dangling in the air. Rhetorically he inquired, "Goin' to the mine?"

Diatrix sorted through the box, sifting through its contents and lugging out conventional supplies like pickaxes, shovels, torches, and his sharp throwing axes, setting them aside on a small stone furnace directly by the chest. He took a moment to reply. "It's what I get paid for."

"Farming's out for me 'till spring," Quinn reported as he decided to clean up the scattered cards on the cherry colored table. "Bet Max will run out of the door again tomorrow for another bounty call?"

Diatrix placed the supplies in his inventory before headed for the front door. "I wouldn't doubt it." Moving a short distance to open the door, Diatrix then turned to Quinn. "Wish me luck. Hope I'll find more diamonds tonight."

"Good trip, friend. Watch your back out there."

Diatrix gestured a wave, and he was out the door, heading to the north.

**A.N. - I thank BlackDragon41 for the review. As for the story, I'll try to update it once each week. This story ties in with my other one loosely. Reading my other story isn't required though.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	3. Chapter 2- Let's Make a Debate

Quinn hastily bit into his steak, relived that he was temporarily done with the chore of collecting firewood, especially in the brutal conditions outside. The scent of seared beef and baked potato loomed through the dining room as Quinn's dinner commenced. Across the table, the sound of a sharp knife scrapping against glazed porcelain signified Max was digging into his dinner. However, the chair next to Quinn remained unoccupied except for a plate heaped with steaming food. Diatrix had yet to return from the mine.

Max occasionally glanced out the large windows, for he watched the snow as it lost and then gained intensity. The fading light seemed coat the snowy landscape in a bluish-grey hue, but he ignored the winter scenery outside the window, focusing on his mouthwatering food instead. He and Quinn exchanged little conversation; they gorged on their scrumptious meal, paying no attention to one another. In about ten minutes, Max set down his utensils, fixing his sweater's collar before he relaxed at the dining table with an empty plate in front of him. He and Quinn speculated perhaps the heavy snow prevented Diatrix from returning, since Quinn remembered Diatrix didn't bring any outerwear with him to the mine yesterday.

Max picked himself up from his chair, giving out an almost inaudible groan, stretching out his short arms upon standing. After a moment, he walked over to the expansive windows, looking both directions. He saw nothing but the outlines of bare trees through the snow, for the rate at which it fell drastically reduced the visibility in the surrounding area. The entire area appeared to be covered in sheets of silver glitter, the snow reflecting all the light from the chandelier inside the home into Max's eyes. He turned due north, apparently trying to see something. "Quinn, what the hell is with Diatrix? He's been gone since yesterday. I bet he's starving or something."

Quinn motioned his head towards Max, who was pinned up to the windows gazing outside. Quinn delayed his response until he swallowed his last bite. "He probably doesn't want to leave," Quinn uttered, setting his knife and fork onto his plate, "That snow's a pain to travel though. Hell, he could've explored too far into the caves and he's trying to get out."

Max shook his head as he stared blankly into the accumulating white fog. "He's done this how many times before…"

Quinn rolled his eyes; Max had to be absolutely oblivious to the white flakes falling from the sky. "Well, if you open your eyes, you'll see the reason why he's not back."

"No, Quinn. I mean he would leave for days even in the summer before I saw him again." Max took a minute until he recognized his tone was laced with suspicion, and Quinn, despite his age, undoubtedly heard it perfectly.

Quinn stood up, preparing to grab the emptied plates and dirty silverware on the shining table, but Max's statement stopped any course of action. Quinn knew Max was implying skepticism about Diatrix's whereabouts. "Where you goin' with this? Have you ever mined, 'cause I believe you never did."

From where Quinn was standing, he saw a glint of a smirk spread across Max's face. Quinn could hear slight sarcasm in his voice. "I mined when I was younger..."

Quinn detected Max's lie rapidly; Max never mined solo or acknowledged the courage it took to such a thing without the company of others to watch your back. Quinn hated it when Max falsely claimed he had done such dangerous operations, and Quinn had first-hand experience of the mental and physical tolls working in a mine brought to a person. "With the help of your dad! But alone you never mined nothing. You should give them miners more respect; they're the guys that get your precious emeralds! You gotta worry about mobs, lava, drops, gravel, getting lost and whatnot when you're minin'. Boy, all that shit can easily kill you!" Quinn shot more appalled glances at Max, but Max remained glaring out the window, back turned, his hands intertwined behind his back.

Max spun around to face Quinn for a moment, seeing the old man's forehead had an evident, angry crease in it. Quinn was close to seething and launching an attack like a slinking cat. Max's eyes then moved to focus on the ceiling as if his thoughts were floating up in the chandelier. "Well then tell me, what guy goes from being a well-paid assassin to a miner for a guy like me? Something isn't right there." Max scratched his sandy head purposely, trying to get Quinn to comprehend his solid point.

Quinn immediately came to Diatrix's defense, for Quinn knew where Max was going. Diatrix was a shady character with more enigmas than one could conjure on his or her own, but Quinn discerned Diatrix never would attempt to slay Max or steal his cherished possessions, especially after knowing him for lengthy time. By and large, the only reason Quinn sided with Diatrix was the fact that Diatrix was more of a friend than Max would ever be.

Narrowing his eyes at the young hunter, Quinn responded in the most gallant tone he could muster. "Diatrix has been in your house a whole year. He'll pull nothing on you." The conservation was becoming messy, and if Max wanted an argument, Quinn decided to give him one.

Ever since Diatrix stepped foot into his abode, Max found no reason to trust the fully covered and hooded man, even if he had been residing in his home without issue for an entire year. Diatrix clearly had no intention to reveal his identity which hid under the many layers of fabric he veiled himself in. Max closed in on Quinn as he crossed his arms, pronouncing all his words with slight arrogance. "He's trying to gain my trust, Quinn. He has yours. An assassin can easily get rid of the both us, take my stash of cash, and be on his merrily way!"

Quinn shook his head in disgust, for Max had struck Quinn's nerves twice in one blow. First, Max mentioned his ever too important wealth, and second, he bashed Diatrix behind his back. Max was too much of a coward to tell what he thought of Diatrix straight to him. "You prick, you care 'bout nothing 'cept the money. You don't even know the guy. Do you know what he's been though? You don't know a damn thing 'bout him. He ain't no criminal Max, if that's the only interest you have in him."

Max laughed at Quinn's defensive speech as Max moved to be within a foot of the old farmer. "I have no respect for a guy who won't show his damn face. What identity is he hiding Quinn, because you seem to know." Max looked at Quinn expectantly, his blue eyes blazing for an answer.

Quinn shrieked wildly as the argument flared up; he answered disregarding Max's question. "And what 'bout you? You leave for a 'bounty call' for weeks at a time. How do I know that you actually catch criminals? You come home looking like you robbed a bank. Half the time you got no weapons or armor on you either. What the hell are you doing out there?"

Max was taken back somewhat, giving Quinn an expression of confusion rather than repulsion, for he never imagined Quinn would ask such a thing after all the years Quinn lived in his home. "How do I know that Diatrix actually mines up north? He can be paying little visits to his master."

Quinn sighed infuriatingly; he recognized the interrogation was going nowhere. He managed to calm himself before tranquilly mentioning, "You don't understand him, Max. Diatrix was tired of running 'round. You were the one guy that allowed him into a house where he could stay put. But of course you took him in last year 'cause you thought he would he an easy kill if his name would pop up on a wanted sign. That's the only reason why you didn't can him yet. I know what you're doing Max. Nothin' gets 'round me."

Max threatened his servant by a concealed weakness tangled in Quinn's answer. "Where can you go, Quinn? What if I kicked you out? Hiring somebody else won't be that hard…"

Quinn mentally gained recognition that Max was stooping to a very low level; his empty threat never would faze Quinn. However, Quinn shrugged as he gave a subtle smile to the bounty hunter. "Good luck. People are losing their minds out there. They fear for themselves. The end of the world was…."

"Stop!" Max shouted, cutting his elder off. "If this is a religious thing I don't want to hear it."

"Suit yourself. "Quinn turned his back to Max as he started to clean up the table. Quinn took the dirtied plates and silverware towards the kitchen's entrance, a room that branched off the dining hall, when Quinn recalled that Max returned a bounty in Blakeslee yesterday. Quinn found that to be incredibly odd; Max should've heard something about the Overworld's fate if he had been in the bustling town the previous day. He ceased moving towards the entry as he noticed Max was almost bolting to leave the dining room. Quinn yelled to Max, following his master. "And I'm to believe that you went to a huge village, but you know nothing about how widespread this news is?"

Max spun around, opening his mouth in an attempt to answer, but his efforts reigned dry. If Max would attempt an answer, Quinn would only pry it open further. He settled for defeat this one time. "Fine. I'm done arguing," Max stated brusquely, trying close their dispute.

Quinn put the plates he was carrying on the edge of the dining table closest to the crackling fireplace, the fire devouring the remaining wood within. Quinn was not done with the debate, and he wanted to prove Diatrix's innocence.

Grasping Max's arm to halt him, Quinn firmly stated, "We're going to the mine, since you don't believe Diatrix is in there."

Max thought it was absurd to go outside, especially since a blizzard was raging. In an hour the sun would settle below the horizon, and they both would have monsters to deal with as well. However, Quinn won this battle, and fighting the adamant old man was pointless. The two slipped on their bulky winter gear before they headed outside, Quinn and Max equipped their swords, and the two ventured outside into the hostile weather, hoping to find the proof they were looking for.

**A.N.- For the few people that read this, I'll be on vacation this month from the 14****th**** to the 21****st**** , so I won't post anything during that time. **

**Thanks BlackDragon41 for posting another review. It makes me feel like I'm doing something right.**


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